Forgiveness and Regrets
by MintCandyApple
Summary: Clary Fray lost her family to an unfortunate accident. The loss of her parents has left Clary damaged. It has been seven years since the accident and Clary is still choosing to hide behind the emotion proof wall she has built around herself. What happens when a certain golden eyed boy comes along and threatens to break down the walls that Clary desperately clings to?
1. Chapter 1

**Um hey guys! So this is the first story i have ever posted. Reviews would be great! Please tell me if I am doing anything wrong, I am new at this. But I hope you guys enjoy the story. As I mentioned in the summary, Jace will be making an arrival sometime in the next few chapters, so stick around if you're a Clary and Jace fan!**

**Oh, and I don't own the characters or anything. All credit goes to the amazing Cassandra Clare.**

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Chapter One:

_Flames. That's all I see. I am engulfed in a sea of red. There's no way to escape. I am cornered by the raging sparks. Suddenly I remember that my mother is also trapped somewhere in this room. I frantically look around, trying to see past the glaring flames. _I need to save her _my mind screams at me urgently. But I cannot move. The fire is slowly advancing towards me. I slump back against the wall in defeat. There is no way out._

_ "Mom!" I yell, yearning to hear her voice one more time. But there is no response. My body crumbles and I fall to my knees. The sobs are shaking my small frame. The fire is getting unbearable now. I struggle to inhale without breathing in too much smoke. _I'm going to die here _I think to myself. I close my eyes and rest my head in my hands. "I love you, mom" I whisper as I am consumed by the flames._

I shoot awake to the sound of my alarm. Images from my dream began to resurface.

"Not again" I mumble before turning off the wretched beeping noise. I've been haunted by the same dream for seven years now. The weekly nightmare about the fire that killed my family has become a routine now. I sigh as I remove my blanket and sit at the edge of my bed. There's a nagging pain at the back of my head. I've become familiar with this feeling over the years. I know that it's the memories trying to flood back in. I normally suppress the pain and push the memories away, refusing to acknowledge the ache that they caused. But today was different. I looked at the calendar above my bed. September 16th. Today was the anniversary of the fire. Today, I welcomed the pain. I shuddered as I allowed the memories to come pouring in.

***Seven years ago***

I was playing in our little backyard when I heard my stepfather, Luke, calling my name. His voice sounded very urgent so I quickly got off the dirt I was playing in, dusted myself off, and turned towards the sound of his voice. When I located him, I realized that he was running towards me. Before I could react, he reached me and enveloped me into a hug.

"Oh thank God" he murmured into my hair. I was a little shocked at his behavior. Was something wrong? Before I could ask him, he set off and started running again, cradling me in his arms. He ran around the house and onto the street in front of it. As we made our way onto the road, I saw why he was so panicked. There was smoke coming out of a window on the second floor. I thought back to the layout of our home and quickly determined that the smoke was coming from the room my mother and Luke occupied.

Luke stopped walking and set me down onto the street. He tore my gaze from the window and room that was burning behind it. He turned my face so I was looking up at him.

"Clary, this is really important. You have to listen to me. Are you listening?" My state of shock prevented me from speaking. I settled for just nodding my head at him.

"Okay," Luke began. "I've already reported the fire. Help should be on the way soon. Clary, you are not to move out of this spot until they get here, do you understand?"

A sudden thought made me snap out of my shock. I ignored Luke's question and asked another one.

"My mother. Where is she?" I looked into Luke's eyes waiting for his response. My heart began to pick up speed as I saw a look sadness mixed with panic flash across his face. My racing heart stopped all together as I saw him lift his hand and point towards the burning room. Time seemed to slow down as I registered what he was saying. Within a second my heart picked up double time. My body responded before my mind could and I found myself stumbling towards the house. Luke had anticipated my reaction and he caught me before I could get off the street.

"Clary! STOP!" His booming voice made me stop struggling in his arms. "I'm not going to leave her, Clary" I faintly heard him saying. "I'm going in right now and I will bring Jocelyn out. But you have to promise me you won't follow me inside." Luke stared at me, waiting for my answer.

"I promise" I managed to squeak out. With that, Luke took off toward the house. As he reached the door, he gave me one last glance, and then disappeared inside.

I paced back and forth for a few minutes. I kept glancing at the door every couple of seconds, praying that I would see my mother and Luke emerge from the house. As the minutes ticked away, and there was still no sign of them, the worry began to set in. I began to wonder if they were even alright. My promise to Luke was becoming harder to keep. After a few more minutes of waiting, my self control evaporated. I needed to know that they were alright.

Discarding my promise to Luke, I raced to the house. Once I reached the door, I suppressed my fear and charged inside. I made my way to the stairs and took them two at a time. As I reached the second floor, I hesitated. Would I be happy with what I found behind my parent's door? Slowly, I made my way to the end of the hallway to where their room was located. I reached the door and went to turn the door knob. I wasn't expecting the searing hot pain that shot through my hand. Right. The fire had heated the handle. Summoning up my bravery, I reached for the knob again and quickly turned it. I ignored the pain and opened the door.

The scene in front of me made me tremble in my shoes. The whole room was surrounded by fire. The beautifully carved wooden boards that held up the bed had burned away and the mattress was in flames on the floor. There was fire spewing from the closet. Undoubtedly, all the clothes were destroyed now. I tore my gaze from the closet when I heard Luke's voice again.

"Jocelyn!" He was yelling. "Hold on!"

I stepped inside the room and saw Luke by their bathroom door, desperately attempting to pry it open. As soon as I stepped inside, Luke's head snapped towards me.

"Clary?" he questioned, his voice rising slightly at the end. The confusion on his face was quickly replaced by anger. "I told you to stay outside, Clary! You shouldn't have come up here." As he spoke, he appeared to grow angrier; his face slowly turning a shade that resembled the fire around him. I made my way over to him.

"I know, Luke" I began. "But I couldn't just leave you and my mom up here alone. I got scared." Luke's faced softened a bit.

"I know you're scared, Clary." He said. "But you need to trust me and go back outside. You're safer out there." When I didn't move he gently grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me towards the door. He was about to push me to it when he noticed that the fire had spread and it was now covering the exit.

"Damn it" Luke muttered. He turned back to the bathroom door and tried to open it again. I could see the problem now. The fire had melted the handle and it was stuck. Luke was throwing himself at the door, trying to knock it down, but it would not budge. Ice flowed through my veins as the reality of our situation finally dawned on me.

"Mom!" I screamed at the bathroom door.

"Clary?" Came a muffled reply.

"Yes, mom, it's me. I'm right here." She was silent for a few seconds. When she finally did speak, it wasn't directed at me, but to my stepfather.

"Luke. Get her out of here. I don't care how or what you have to do. Please, just get my daughter somewhere safe."

"Jocelyn, the fire is blocking the door." Luke responded. "She can't get out of this room." The silence that filled the room lasted longer this time. My mother was most likely debating what to do next.

"The window." She finally spoke up again. "She can go out the window."

"But it's a two story drop!" Luke protested.

"Well it's either that or burn in here."

Luke turned to me and then to the window. He apparently decided to agree with my mom because he grabbed my around the waist and slung me over his shoulder.

"No!" I spoke up for the first time in minutes. "Mom I won't leave you!"

"Clary, please." My mom's voice was urgent. "It's the only way. Just know that I love you, Clary. Always." Luke had brought me over to the window while my mom was talking. He looked at me with the saddest expression I had ever seen before speaking.

"Clary," he began. "I'm going to stay here and fight for your mom. But you are going to go out this window so you can be safe. Sure, you'll be banged up a little bit, but you'll live, Clary." I felt the taste of salt in my mouth. I must be crying, I realized. I stared at Luke, the man who had been there my whole life. Even though he wasn't my real father, he never treated me like I wasn't his daughter. It finally hit me the sacrifice he was making. He was willing to stay here and try to save my mom, even though he will most likely die in the fire. I looked from Luke to the bathroom door and broke down at the thought of never seeing either of them again. Never seeing my parents again. Luke wiped my tears away and gave me one of his bone crushing hugs.

"I love you, kiddo." He whispered in my ear.

"I-I love you too" I managed to choke out between my sobs.

Before I knew what he was doing, he lifted me up towards the window. During those few seconds I noticed some things. First, I noticed that the fire had almost consumed the entire room now. Second, I noticed that the bathroom door was almost completely blocked, eliminating all hope I had of my mother surviving. Lastly, I noticed that Luke was crying too. I wanted to comfort him, to tell him that everything would be alright. But, I knew it wouldn't be. He was now lowering me out the window. I tried to cling to him, but all too soon I felt the absence of his arms.

And then I was falling.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

I loosen the grip on my bed as the last of the memories fade away. I feel a stinging behind my eyes and realize that I'm subconsciously trying to hold back the tears. _No,_ I thought to myself. Today, I deserved to feel the pain. I gasp as the tears start to spill down my face and the ache inside my chest becomes apparent. For the first time in months, I allow the walls I have worked so hard to build to come down. For the first time in months, I allow myself to _feel._

It hurt, to say the least. All the emotions that I have been suppressing for so long came flooding back in all at once. I felt the pain, the anger, and the loss. The emotions quickly consume me. They burrow themselves deep inside my core and eat away at the hole in my heart. They destroy me. Just like they always do every time I allow myself to become vulnerable. Every time I allow myself to feel something.

After the death of my parents, I was obligated to meet with a therapist three times a week. They told me it would help me work out my grief. My therapist was a nice lady. She always gave me encouraging smiles and tried to make me feel comfortable. I would always return her smiles with ones that I hoped would make her believe that I was improving. But, she saw right through me. She told me that it wasn't healthy to keep my emotions bottled up. She said that I needed acknowledge the pain in order for the healing to begin. But she didn't understand. None of them did.

The accident had left me more damaged than I would ever let anyone know. I couldn't go a day without ending up crumpled on the floor, crying my eyes out. It became unbearable. Even if I felt happy, the pain was always lying underneath it, waiting to resurface again.

The ache that I feel inside my chest at this moment, as I lay in a heap on my bed, this is the feeling that I carried with me throughout the months after the accident. The ache never went away. I felt it every night before I went to sleep, and every morning when I woke up. Pain was my constant companion.

And still, I waited. I waited for over a year for it to get better. But I soon came to the realization that it would never get easier. The grief that I felt, it would never go away. So, a year after the accident, at the age of eleven, I started constructing my wall. I built it brick by brick. Once I was sure that it was sturdy enough, and that nothing could get past it, I hid behind it. And I have been hiding ever since.

Coming back to reality, I sit up on my bed. My walls are completely down now, and I feel everything. Slowly, I stand up and make my way across my room and into my bathroom. I turn towards the mirror and flinch as I see my reflection. My eyes are red and swollen from the tears. My face is paler than usual, making my freckles stand out even more. I glance up and finally, I notice my hair. It is a mess of wild, red curls. I sigh as I try to tame them.

Giving up, I pluck a black hair tie from the drawer next to the sink and start to put my hair into a bun. I drop my hands as I see the scar on my shoulder. Suddenly, a wave of guilt crashes over me. My legs start shaking furiously and I lean against the sink for support. Once I regain my strength, I look back into the mirror. I move the strap of my tank top aside and slide my finger down the scar that starts at my shoulder blade and runs six inches down. I received this scar on the day of the accident. After my two story drop from the window, I landed in one of the rose bushes that lined our house. One of the thorns cut too deep. I also suffered from a broken foot and a few sprained ribs. But this scar is the only permanent mark that was left from the fall.

I stop stroking the scar as I feel the guilt set in again. My parents died in that fire, and all I have to show for it is a stupid scar.

It rapidly became too much. The pain started to collide with the guilt and I felt sick. I clung to the sink for support again while I waited for the wave of emotion to pass. Minutes passed but the ache did not recede. I sighed. This is why I put up the wall in the first place. So I wouldn't have to deal with this pain every minute of every day.

I place my head in between my hands and concentrate on rebuilding the wall. Brick by brick the wall comes back up, and the pain turns into a sort of numbness. I let out a breath as I recognize the familiar sensation. There was no longer any pain. The ache inside my chest has been emptied out and the only thing that remains now is the hollow space it once occupied.

I would say that I feel relieved, but in truth, I don't feel anything.

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**A/N : Yay! New chapter! ****So, what do you guys think? Is the story any good? Please review if you can! Tell me if there's anything I need improvement on. Or if you're just going to tell me that you like the story, that's fine too! It actually encourages me to keep writing :)**

**But anyway, If you're still looking forward to Jace, well don't fret because I'm planning on introducing him in the next chapter.**


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